


some peace before the end

by Damned_Writers



Series: the long road home [6]
Category: A Stitch In Time - Fandom, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alon Ghemor and Natima Lang are also there, Character Death, Elim continuing the long journey of dealing with trauma, F/F, Gen, I don't go into that here though, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, also I generally HC that gender isnt what it is on earth today, and rebuilding his life, as in Pythas is dead, barring Elim himself, but they'll have more presence in a later fic, confessions post-death, despite appearances I think Pythas is my favourite character of asit, gosh I love Cardassians so much, he's a major character in my heart, is Pythas a major character? I wasn't sure if this was a major character death kind of deal, recontextualising your whole relationship with someone, so M/M and F/F are take-with-a-grain-of-salt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:40:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24586240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damned_Writers/pseuds/Damned_Writers
Summary: At the funeral of Pythas Lok, Elim receives an unexpected gift from his old friend.Part six of the long road home: A series exploring the lives of Julian, Kira, and Garak after the end of the Dominion War. The fics can be read as one shots or together.
Relationships: Background Kira Nerys/Natima Lang, Elim Garak & Kira Nerys, Elim Garak/Kelas Parmak, Onesided Pythas Lok/Elim Garak
Series: the long road home [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744279
Comments: 10
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basically this is just me being absolutely obsessed with the idea that Pythas and Elim are almost Tinker Tailor-like tragic (with slightly different narrative).
> 
> A Shri'Tal is a Cardassian tradition in which a dying (or dead) Cardassian confesses all their secrets to their closest relative. On the show Tekeny Ghemor does this with Kira Nerys, because he considers her his daughter.
> 
> I've divided this work into 3 parts for ease.

Year: 2380

________________________

“Is this okay?” asked Nerys, stepping out in a white robe, cinched together with a simple belt.

Elim and Kelas nodded, each in their own robes.

Nerys shook her hands out, taking a deep breath. “Are you _sure_ it's allowed? I don't want to disrespect-”

Kelas stepped forwards and steadied her with a hand on each shoulder. “We've invited you. Besides, this won't be a massive, public affair. He wasn't a well-known politician, leader, revolutionary-”

“- and he's never been outed as a member of the Obsidian Order, so there won't be an angry mob,” added Elim, a little sharply. He softened a little, biting back his tongue's natural instinct to lash out when under stress, and took Nerys's hand. “I promise that nobody will mind your presence. And _I_ want you to be there.”

That seemed to be good enough for her and together they left for the funeral of Pythas Lok.

It wasn't two people he'd ever have expected to be at the grave of a former member of an organisation that had terrorised them both, but then, these were times that made friends of the strangest of people. He was still occasionally catching himself realising the ludicrousness of one of his closest companions being a Bajoran and his lover being a past victim of his own interrogations.

There was an unexpected turn-out for a man who by all accounts had been a ghost. Nal Dejar, of course, standing impassive enough to be mistaken for stone, remained apart. Alon Ghemor and Natima Lang were more of a surprise. He guessed that Lang was Alon's guest for the day, but his loyalty to Pythas' memory was strangely touching. He didn't think Pythas and Alon had ever been _close_ as such, but perhaps there was some context that he didn't know.

The person he had least expected to encounter was Kel Lokar.

It seemed she was overseeing his burial.

Elim guided Nerys and Kelas to Alon and Natima and then left them to it. They already knew each other after the last five years of continuously fighting for decent assistance to be afforded to Cardassian relief, which Nerys – ambassador for Bajoran-Cardassian relations – firmly supported. He also had a sneaking suspicion that Nerys and Natima had more than a professional relationship with one another. Elim wholeheartedly approved of her growing harem, even if it occasionally consisted of politicians who wanted him locked up.

Kel saw him approaching and nodded. “I thought you would be here,” she said, smiling softly. Since they had first met they had become a little closer. He had shared stories of Palandine when he knew her, and she in turn had gifted him with tales of Palandine's continued bit of resistance after his exile, how Palandine had raised her in the Oralian Way, their conversation the last time they had seen one another before Palandine had disappeared...

Elim felt protective, although he knew she didn't need it. It was probably his own fault that they would never really be friends, seeing the ghosts of Palandine and Ziyal in her. The past would forever be too present for them to work through it together.

“I hadn't realised that you would be my dear,” he said, a hint of his old masked politeness in place, as usual. Today of all days he didn't think he'd be able to shed it, no matter how much he wanted to. “I hadn't thought of Pythas as the kind to turn to religion. Especially as the Oralian Way is still considered, if you'll forgive me, a fringe group.”

“He wasn't exactly,” she said. “But he came to a few meetings, near the end. Mostly after they were finished. We spoke and eventually he requested that I be here as a Guide.”

“Did he ever say why?”

She studied him for a moment. “You knew him, didn't you?”

“... Ye-es. As well as he could be known.”

She nodded. “That checks out.”

“What does?”

“That he'd be an enigma to everyone, except possibly Dejar. I bet that must have been maddening to you in particular.”

Elim considered multiple answers. Mock outrage that she would assume he was digging for information, feigned confusion that she might think he didn't know him as well as Dejar did, but in the end he simply smiled. “You can't blame me for wondering.”

He wandered back to the group as the ritual began. Cardassia Prime was covered in Perek's these days. The ones at the official memorials weren't touched other than to prune and maintain, but there were enough wild ones reintroduced that old traditions were coming back into practise. Pythas would be buried both under the eyes of the Guides of Oralius and the old Cardassian Union.

They all received some of the Perek blossoms as his shroud was lowered into the grave. Once he hit the bottom they covered him in them, until the shroud was no longer visible.

Elim was gratified to see that Nerys was looking a little teary. He had initially invited her because she had told him that she knew very little about Cardassian spiritual practises and he felt that this would be yet another piece of the puzzle she was building about his culture.

In return she had brought him a Bajoran earring when she visited him this time around. As a mark of respect and to cement the ties that had been growing between them these last five years. “For you to wear when you finally return the favour and come back to Bajor,” she'd told him, as he for once stood there at a loss for words.

He was feeling a similar inability to process this moment, but where his dominant emotion with Nerys had been joy, here he found... a surprising depth of grief. Pythas' death meant... he didn't know what it meant, but something inside him felt broken open, his past spilling out of the wound. It made it difficult for him to fully focus on the process. Instead he watched Nal Dejar. The entire time she didn't move except to throw the petals, until Kel asked if anyone would like to say something for his spirit to hear.

She stepped forwards, speaking in a mechanical voice that belied the truthfulness of her words: “Pythas Lok did more for me than any person in my life. He was loyal to those he cared for and dedicated to upholding the ideals of Cardassia. No person gave as much...” her voice faltered then. “He found some peace, towards the end.”

With that she stepped back again. Kel looked over the assembled and Elim suddenly felt he ought to say something.

“Pythas protected me,” he began, thinking of what Dejar had said about loyalty. “He protected me many times, probably more than I know of. He never wanted anything in return for his protection... he may have been the only person before my exile that never demanded anything back from me, actually. That, more than anything, was what confused me about him. We existed in a world where we were expected to crawl over one another to get to the top, but he never attempted to use me for that. I believe he might have been happier in the world we want to build now, even with the cost it took for it arrive. Now that his secrets no longer need to be kept, I can share that he came to me a few years ago, after the end of the war. He said that what drew him to the Reunion Project were the words spoken about healing. On every level.” Elim looked up and met Dejar's eyes. “I am glad to hear that he may have found the ability to heal.”

Nobody else spoke and one by one they slowly drifted away from the nondescript grave. Alon said he would see him to discuss some things about his latest projects the following day, Natima and Nerys made promises to one another, and Kel waved a goodbye to him. He felt a little gutted that she hadn't stayed to talk, but it was his own fault. The only one who didn't move was Dejar.

“Are you coming?” came Kelas' soft voice from behind him.

“I'll catch up,” Elim promised and was gratified that Kelas always knew when it was a good time to give him a moment alone.

He waited until the noises of the others were far enough away before approaching, stopping next to her and turning to look at the grave.

After some ten seconds she said quietly: “He thought highly of you.”

Elim smiled. “I confess, I never really knew why. But I thought the same of him. He was always exceeding expectations, from the very start.”

In response she reached into her jacket and pulled out an isolinear rod, holding it out for him.

Elim took it and hid it away with a raised eyebrow. “Classified secrets?”

“In a way. It's his Shri-Tal. He entrusted me to give it to you once he died. Even I don't know what's on it. And I did ask.”

“How brave of you,” said Elim.

That earned him a soft, sad laugh – the only real tear he had ever seen in her otherwise immaculately unblemished mask. “He told me that it was something that he had never revealed to another person.”

“... thank you.”

“Thank you for saying all of that today. It's more about his life before he met me than I ever knew.”

“Believe me,” said Elim, finally turning to her. “It was the truth.”

She looked back at him. “I think he would have thought his funeral being attended by a Bajoran would be quite entertaining.”

“Yes, I imagined so too.”

They parted ways without any more words. Elim wondered if they'd ever see each other again. Probably not. Their lives had intersected briefly through the Order and then through Pythas, but the two of them had nothing but painful memories in common. It was a shame. He thought she could use some support, but he knew she wouldn't accept it.

With a sigh he made his way back home.


	2. Chapter 2

Five years ago Elim Garak had returned to the shell of Cardassia, unable to process his past, present, or future. It had taken him a long time to finish his letter to doctor Bashir, and only by then had he begun to be able to tentatively approach all three without immediately falling into claustrophobic attacks, guilt, regret...

He had channelled all that hurt into managing several projects using the name of Tora Ziyal as a company, successfully launched a language exchange between Bajorans and Cardassians, sought to revive the almost extinct dialect of Kurabda, managed to get orphaned children placed in families and thereby slowly begun to dissolve centuries of stigmas, approached politicians to support mixed Bajoran-Cardassian children being allowed special protection under Bajoran and Cardassian law, and supported Alon in his campaigns for government.

Sometime during all that he had moved in with Kelas Parmak. Another doctor that was too good for him, but this time one who for whatever inexplicable reason wanted him back. The two of them had secured a little house – still standing after all the bombs – with land enough to begin a garden.

In all of this time he had only interacted with Pythas three times. The first was while Elim was still living in a shed, when they had spoken more candidly than ever before about what had happened shortly before his exile and about the potential for their future. The second was asking him for some help regarding a piece of dirt he could use to sway a council-member's vote, and the third was not long before his death.

Going by what Kel had revealed about him spending time at the Oralian Way around the same time, Elim had a suspicion that he knew he was going to die and was trying to... what? Make amends? Sort out loose ties? Maybe he should have killed Elim instead if that was what he wanted. Instead he'd offered him the gift of his Shri-Tal.

He'd come into the garden as Elim was tending to it, without Dejar at his side. The disfigurement of his face had mellowed as the burns had healed, but he still walked with a stick - slow, painful steps. The one eye that had been affected hadn't been given the proper care and no longer saw anything, pale and scarred. Elim thought that if they had been operating at Federation Standards this never would have happened. But the Federation still wasn't sending enough help even to help keep people alive, never mind give cosmetic surgeries. Like Pythas had told him, he was one of the lucky ones. Some just wasted away in hospital beds over several years, not enough medication to relieve them of their pain.

Elim had heard him that time.

“No longer as good as I was,” said Pythas, conversationally.

“What do you mean?” said Elim. “I know you're just being kind, letting me win this once. I was never quite as good as you.”

Pythas shot him a sardonic smile. “Of course. Kindness is a trait I'm often associated with.”

“Would you like me to fetch you a chair?” asked Elim, straightening and taking off his gardening gloves.

Pythas' mask never slipped, but the length he took to answer him revealed some internal tumult. Finally he nodded. Elim went into the shed and retrieved a pair of chairs and pillows, placing them opposite each other and inviting Pythas to sit first.

“Does this give you memories of interrogations?” asked Elim.

“Who's in the interrogator's chair? You or me?”

Elim shrugged. “On the one hand you have the advantage of catching me unawares. On the other, I believe I'm the one who wishes to ask the questions.”

“Such as?”

“Why are you here? I'm guessing this isn't a social call.”

Pythas looked unreadable. Somewhere beneath the scarring Elim still saw the prettiness that had struck him the very first time they had met. “Perhaps it _is_ simply a social call,” said Pythas, before suddenly devolving into a coughing fit. Elim stood quickly and held onto his arm and back as the coughing caused spasms through his whole body, feeling almost as though Pythas leaned into him for a brief second. Once he was done Elim brought him a glass of water and watched him drink it.

“Is Dejar close by?”

Pythas nodded. “She doesn't usually let me too far out of sight, in case of... well, in case of this.”

Elim took the time to really study him and realised that he'd been using his disability as its own mask. Pythas wasn't just suffering the usual effects of his trauma, he was worse than last time he'd seen him. Shakier, pale, his breathing rough.

“Let me know if there's anything I can get you,” Elim said.

“It's nothing to fret about,” said Pythas. “Nothing at all.” After that he lapsed into a silence that Elim didn't want to break. Instead he took the time to study him and form a vague theory on what Pythas wanted from him.

He couldn't figure out why at the time, but after the funeral he thought it made a little more sense, if only because people about to die did strange things. Pythas had simply wanted to take him in one last time. It didn't necessarily explain everything, but he was convinced that that was what had happened. He'd simply watched him, followed his movements, looked into his eyes... Elim had a sneaking suspicion now that if he hadn't heard him entering, Pythas would have observed him gardening and left without saying anything at all.

Eventually he had stood carefully, trying not to let on how difficult the movement was. “Until next time.”

“And will I be getting any answers next time?”

“Who knows,” he said, a little familiar mockery making its way into his tone. “I think I might be kinder next time.”

That next time was now. He'd known he was going to die.

Elim felt guilty for not pressing, for not using his contacts to make sure he got the care he deserved. If he'd been transported off-planet he could've been – if not fixed – then at least given a fair amount of years without pain. Time to... do something with his life post-occupation. Time for anything.

_____________________

Nerys and Kelas were waiting for him at home. He didn't let on that something had happened between himself and Dejar, responding normally and politely to them. It wasn't as easy as it had been in the past. The annoying thing about becoming a more honest person was that people began to see through you when you were being dishonest. He figured they had an idea that there was something off, but hoped they were just chalking it up to general conflicted emotions about his relationship with Pythas and their shared past in the Obsidian Order.

Eventually, thankfully, the three of them started to disperse to their own activities, Kelas to his armchair to read, Nerys to her room to prepare for tomorrow's not-a-date with Natima, and Elim to his office. Nerys stopped him before he entered with a hand gently placed on his arm. “Thanks again for today. It can't have been easy.”

“All of us know the feeling of having to bury old friends,” said Elim softly.

“I hope I didn't do anything culturally insensitive,” she half-joked.

“Not at all Nerys. You were a credit to all Bajorans. And most Cardassians, for that matter.”

She squeezed his arm softly. “Thank you. Oh, and Elim-” she added as she left, “- for what it's worth it sounds like he did a lot of good, in his own way.”

“In his own way,” agreed Elim and closed the door behind him.

Just him and the rod now, with whatever Pythas had thought belonged in his Shri-Tal. It was astounding that it hadn't gone to Dejar. Ater all, she had nursed him back to health and been his companion for the past five years. He wondered whether she felt any bitterness at the fact, but if so, she hadn't shown any.

He wondered what secrets Pythas had that were of use. He had no doubt that Pythas had dirt on every single person within government, so perhaps that was why the Shri-Tal had gone to him: He had more use for it, more enemies.

Maybe it was also partially the same nostalgia that Elim felt. In a strange way the two of them really had been innocent when they had first met - believing they could be in charge of things, not understanding fully betrayal, death, pain – although maybe Pythas had never been innocent like him. After all, he'd known how to avoid beatings, gain others' confidence, truly be underestimated, never get close to anyone or show any sentimentality. Even those times he'd saved, or tried to save him, had been so completely amputated from any outward emotional signifiers that if Elim didn't have perfect memory he might have doubted that Pythas had done any of that at all.

“Well,” he said matter-of-factly to himself to hide the nerves, “you can't know until you've checked the files.” He created a secure as possible connection before inserting the rod into the computer, and then waited. A wealth of files uploaded themselves onto his drive, too many for him to immediately have a sense of just how much data it was. When it was finished he realised that this must have been information hoarded from the very beginning of Pythas' career and he marvelled that he'd gotten away with it. But if anyone was going to, it was Pythas.

The folder at the top was marked “For Elim.” He accessed that one first. It led to five recordings, numbered in order.

He pressed the first one.


	3. Chapter 3

The Pythas of the past year revealed himself, looking rested, but breathing heavily nonetheless. “Hello Elim,” he said. “I am not used to being as candid as I am about to be... I am not used to the truth at all. You know what that's like, although I daresay you've adapted better to this new world than I have.” After that strong introduction, he lapsed into a long silence as he tried to control his breathing once more. “It's... frustrating,” he finally managed. “I have so much... to say. It'll be a... shorter confession than intended. I wish I could have this... moment... be perfect. But I... wish. For a lot of things. This is just another one of... those situations... where I'll have... to make do.” He began to cough and ended the video there.

Only then did Elim check the date it was uploaded onto the rod. The day before his death. He figured it was a fair assumption that it had been recorded around or on the same time, going by the way Pythas looked and sounded.

He pressed the next on the list.

“Hello Elim,” said the next Pythas – or rather an earlier one. He was young, so young. The beginning of his Obsidian Order days. Elim knew he had been attractive, but seeing him again, like that, sent a jolt through his body. “Logging this as message eleven I have recorded to you so far. Like the others it'll be deleted, but as I've told you...” he hesitated. Elim had never seen that expression on his face before. Doubt was not a word he had ever associated with Pythas. It was fascinating... “As I suppose I _haven't_ told you, if we allow me a moment's honesty – the relief is in the telling itself. And yet, despite the safety of these messages I do not allow myself complete honesty. One never knows... even if they only last for the time it takes me to make them.” Pythas sighed. “Which is why I've opted to discontinue them. As a last note to you then, I miss our days on Bamarren. I no longer have an excuse to seek you out.” He smiled his old mocking smile. “Never mind to touch you.” The video abruptly ended there.

“You didn't delete it,” said Elim. “How... sentimental of you.” For now he put the rest of the message's content out of his mind. Its suggestion seemed unfathomable.

In the next video Pythas was a few years older. Elim would put this at around the time they had worked together on interrogating Dukat's father.

“Hello Elim. Logging this as message twenty-three.” He paused and then began: “It was good to see you again. I always appreciated that you relied on me so easily, but I doubt it's a gift bestowed on me alone. Rather, I notice that you never did rid yourself of that intrusive sentimentality. Or find less obvious ways to express it, at least. I'd be disappointed if I wasn't so fond of you.”

Elim couldn't believe that he was hearing these words coming from Pythas' mouth. If he didn't know the rod came from him, he'd have assumed some elaborate conspiracy, but what would be the reasoning behind that. Absent all other possibilities, he was faced with the most obvious one: that Pythas had been keeping all of this from him the entire time they had known each other. Not just the feeling, but the sincerity. The ability to speak some kind of truth absent of tricks, hidden agendas, clever lies. Now that Elim thought about it, Pythas had never worked with words like he did. He hadn't attempted to lie or obfuscate unless he absolutely had to, although he was well-trained in it.

Where Elim always quite enjoyed toying with meanings even outside of his work Pythas had simply been methodical. If something needed to be done, he would do it, but apart from when he was sneaking up on him, Elim had never known if any of it brought Pythas satisfaction. Pythas had simply kept it beneath a bland mask. No, not bland, exactly. At least around Elim he was never bland. He was subtly sarcastic, playful, funny.

He realised he'd gotten distracted and scrolled back from where he'd stopped paying attention.

“I'd be disappointed if I wasn't so fond of you,” repeated Pythas, exactly the same as before, with a smirk as though he knew Elim wouldn't believe him and have to hear it again. “It's good that you never chased me at Bamarren, you know. You were too busy with Barkan and Palandine. I remember hoping that I could keep everything buried so deeply that you would never notice – not because I thought you would ever use it against me. But you would be _kind_ about it, and I wouldn't have been able to bear it. This would shock you to hear, I'm sure. To be honest I'm embarrassed at the thought that you could ever get a hold of this confession or find out some other way. I've gotten so used to talking with you now though, I doubt I could stop even if I did want to. You have your failings and I have mine. Yours are bleeding through though. I can tell that you're about to do something stupid. If you do I'll have no choice but to try and save you, because the only thing worse than living like this is living with the knowledge that you've been killed when I could have interceded.”

Pythas didn't say anything for a few, long seconds. “I wonder if it wouldn't be better if you were out of all of this. Off Cardassia. Given the chance you deserved to become something... else. It never did come naturally to you, even if Tain believes it did. I'd prefer you gone than dead. I'd even let myself be embarrassed by you learning the truth if it meant that you didn't die. Who knows, when I hope for something out loud it usually happens. That's why I never hope-” he stopped speaking suddenly, as if forcing something back, and the video ended on the same sudden note as the last one, without answering the questions it had awakened in Elim.

The ideas buried within his words were ones he didn't assume would ever be given more clarity. He remembered when he had seen him the last time before his exile. The new heir to the Obsidian Order's head chair. He remembered asking if he'd tried to help him and Palandine that day in the park. Had his exile been Pythas' idea all along?

The only thing he could really be sure of was that Pythas had always tried to save him. What exactly the details of that entailed... Elim pressed play on the next video.

Pythas was seeing strands of grey in his hair that suited him. Prior to the destruction then, but it can't have been too long ago. He had grown from the pretty young man into a handsome, distinguished professory type. Certainly still someone that would have been underestimated by enemies and friends alike. Still slim, still capable of fading into the background if he wanted to. In a way, not at all the type to become the leader of a powerful organisation, even though the Obsidian Order didn't exist any more by then. He hadn't been an ambitious type in that way. He was just, as always, quietly confident.

Elim understood why Tain had chosen him. He wouldn't care if Tain continued to conduct business despite being formally retired. He'd probably known about the doomed attack on the Founder's Homeworld and decided to let Tain carry it out – not giving his blessing, but not interfering either. Tain had never liked him enough to really let him into the inner circle, which was probably why he hadn't been invited along to die in the attack along with almost everyone else.

“Hello Elim,” he began as in the other ones. Something about him seemed... off. Seemingly still calm, but somehow showing cracks in his armour. “Logging this as... message one hundred and five. I have an addiction. Over the years I've told myself over and over that I'll stop these to you. How foolish of me to pretend I would..." He appeared to need a moment to gather his thoughts, before taking a different track: "I am glad that you have been helping the Federation. Is that disloyal to the state? Well, we always were, in our own ways. In the end we were always selfishly seeking our own happiness. The true crime was in not going all in. Not making a choice. Believing we could maintain a loyalty to both. If you'll let me be melodramatic for just a moment, that may have been Cardassia's crime all along, everything else was just... the natural conclusion of that. I think Cardassia is about to die and I'm glad that you're not witness to it, I know it would break that soft heart of yours. There will be a new Cardassia. You'll be there to see it. I doubt I will.” In the distance the sound of a bomb.

Pythas smiled without warmth. “You know I'll allow myself to not delete this log. A small concession now that I'm about to die. Let my enemies use it against my corpse... or I'll allow myself a brief last delusion that you'll eventually see it. Goodbye Elim. I...” he considered for a moment and then shook his head. “Does it need to be said?” And he signed off.

One last video. Elim pressed play without stopping to think.

It was the same Pythas as had begun. He seemed to have calmed down from his coughing streak and was breathing a little lighter. Elim was suddenly struck by the somewhat eclectic office-space behind him and thought that if he was a tailor or a gardener in another life then Pythas was an academic. The kind who collected odd remnants of the things he researched, scattered them around his cluttered office like a treasure hunt. Parmak was a little like that, but where Parmak was always a doer, a creator, and very specific about what he did, the Pythas that Elim imagined wanted to be alone to theorise with himself on any number of things that fascinated him. Maybe occasionally jump out of his bubble to share one of those theories.

Elim wondered at what point one stopped being the victim of a life forced upon one and became the perpetrator of the same violence towards others. Was it ever possible to move on from the former and atone for the latter?

Pythas began to speak: “Second attempt. Elim. There's too much to say, even if I could say them. If there is one thing that I have learned over the years, it's that I wasn't as strong as you. You, in your way, never stopped attacking the walls that had been placed around us. You may not have known what you were doing, but I believe my misguided attempts to save you were a mistake. If I'd been braver, I would have joined you.”

He breathed carefully for a few long moments. “My love for you ended up taking more unorthodox shapes, perhaps so intangible that it can't have been called love at all. Or is it just the feeling that matters and not the actions? I don't know. I've never loved otherwise and nobody ever taught me how.” Another few breaths. Elim could see him beginning to struggle again. “The files are a complete account of the work I've done all my life. Many are still relevant, but mostly they're the most honest I can be with you. The sum of my life. I think that's... the only thing I can give you now. I hope it's enough.”

The video ended.

Elim sat back in his chair. He didn't move for some time, falling back into the stillness taught to him at Bamarren and never forgotten, comforting in its familiarity despite feeling cold. Eventually he stood up and went to the bedroom. He could see Kelas puttering about, getting ready, not seeing him in the doorway gazing at him.

It wasn't until Elim purposefully made his presence known that he noticed, jumping back. “Elim! I didn't... see you.” He approached him, knowing far too well by now how to read his moods. “What's the matter?”

For a moment he contemplated glossing over everything, smiling, saying something mysterious and un-insightful and watch the faint disappointment in Kelas eyes as he didn't believe him. But that would be unfair, both to him and to Pythas. “I can't... tell you right now. But I will. And I'll be okay.”

“Okay,” said Kelas simply, before placing a careful hand on his cheek. He was always so gentle with him when something like this came up, the past bleeding into the present with a terrifying intensity. Kelas' hands steadied him. The other came up to mirror the first and together they brought his chufa down for a soft kiss.

Elim leaned forwards with only a hint of shame after all these years of unlearning his fear of touch, until Kelas embraced him properly, resting his head against his chest. He wished that someone had been there to do the same for Pythas before it had been too late. But then he remembered Dejar's words from the funeral again: In his own, slight way, he had found some peace before the end. Elim wouldn't be the one to diminish that by mourning for a life that hadn't been, whether Pythas', Kelas', his own, or countless others.

If Pythas could do all that he had done for him – could admit all he'd admitted, then he could do this little thing for him in return.  
  
  
  
\------ The End -------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: I want to write Julian coming to Cardassia and reuniting with Garak
> 
> also me: but first they don't see each other for multiple years and go through various introspective journeys understanding their respective traumas
> 
> ... and Kira gets lots of partners of various genders and lives her best life.
> 
> Anyway, a few stories to go before they see each other again.


End file.
